Honeymooning
by yaoi-is-wowie21
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley take a well earned vacation to the beach. And run into some old acquaintances they wished they hadn't. A general mass of chaos and randomossity. Fluff too.


**Disclaimer: Good Omens. Written by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett. Neither are my name. Coincidentally, I'm not a guy either.  
****A/N: This book has been driving me crazy. I am obsessed with it... Sad really. The idea came to me while I was zoning out at the pool. Not in the pool, that would be bad.  
****Warnings: Um, fluffy slash and weirdness and OOCness. LOTS of OOCness. Yep. Fear it.**

_**Honeymooning**_

Aziraphale sighed contentedly and leaned back in his folding chair. It was almost sunset, but the sun was still shining brilliantly. _This is the life_, Aziraphale thought to himself lazily. _No Apocalypse to be averting, no orders from above...Who cares if the tan ruins the 'angelic' look._

"Here we are," A.J. Crowley said, interrupting Aziraphale's thought process. "Two of those fruity umbrella drinks with extra umbrellas!" He set a large glass with a numerous amount of little papery umbrellas in it down next to Aziraphale, settling down into his own beach chair. The two sat in silence as they watched the remaining people at the shore amble by, sipping their drinks.

"Hey Crowley."

"Hm?"

"Did thongs and Speedos for men come from your side?"

There was a long pause.

"No. No, I think they were invented by entities much worse."

Aziraphale shuddered. "I hate how fat men always try to shove themselves into those."

Crowley chuckled at Aziraphale's obvious discomfort. "Even so, I look dashingly good in one, don't you think so?"

"I've been trying to keep my eyes above your waistline."

"At chest level?" Crowley asked insinuatingly.

"I am _not_ staring at your chest."

"If you say so," Crowley smirked.

Aziraphale fumed into his drink.

oooOOooo

An hour later...

"Well lookie here. How are you two honeymooners?" said a feminine voice behind them. Aziraphale glanced backwards up over the back of his seat and met gazes with a pretty, upside down pair of orange eyes. War.

"Oh no," the angel moaned. "What are you doing here?"

"Chill man," the woman smiled like only she could, smoothing the bottom half of her swimsuit. "We're here on vacation."

"We?" intoned Crowley, looking over the top of his sunglasses at her.

"Uh-huh. Me, Famine, Pollution, and Death."

"Can Death _go_ on vacation?" Crowley asked incredulously.

War shrugged. "Who'd stop him?"

Crowley had nothing to say to that.

"Anyway, I wanted to say sorry for missing your wedding and all. We were having some fun in the Middle East and forgot to stop by."

"That's alright," Aziraphale replied. "It was enough of a nightmare anyway."

"Yeah. You know those human comedies where the two families are total opposites and everything goes wrong? Just like that. Quite fun actually," Crowley added. "The Metatron hurled Beelzebub into the cake."

"It's a pity, though. I so wanted to see Zira in a dress," War pouted.

"I did _not_ wear a dress, okay?" Aziraphale frowned. "I wore a white tux."

"I did manage to convince him to wear a veil though," Crowley beamed happily. "And a garter. I'll show you the pictures later. They're up in our hotel room."

"If by convince you mean 'hold him down and forcibly shove it on him,' then yes, you're right."

War giggled. A group of guys walked by, a couple of them looking interestedly at War. She smiled and winked back in their general direction, causing a fight to break out as they argued over who she had winked at. War sighed happily.

"Well, you've still got it," Crowley whistled admiringly, watching the ensuing fist fight.

"Yeah. After that whole Armageddon fiasco, I was feeling sort of depressed. Hadn't been causing as many wars as I used to." She smiled vividly. "But I saw someone and it was all sorted out."

They left it at that. During the pause in the conversation, another voice broke in,

"Uh, hey, War?" said a pale young man who came up to the three, followed by a dark-haired man, both in swimming trunks. "I think we lost Death."

"That's a new one," muttered Aziraphale to Crowley, who chuckled.

"Oh, he's probably up in some arcade, playing whack-a-mole or that game where you hit the alligators as they pop out." War waved Pollution and Famine off unconcernedly. "He's developed a sort of obsessive liking to games where you hit small animals with a mallet," she explained to the two in front of her.

"I know the feeling," said Crowley.

"Well, I guess we best leave you two lovebirds alone then," smiled Famine. "This _is_ your honeymoon after all. Would you like to get together for drinks later this evening?"

"We'd love to," answered Aziraphale. "As long as they don't turn us into living skeletons or something."

oooOOooo

A few hours and several bottles of liquor later, Aziraphale, Crowley, and three of the Horsemen of the Apocalypse were all fairly good and drunk. Famine was waving his hand in front Pollution's face, who swore that the bearded man had at least four on one arm. War and Crowley were giggling over a photo album of the angel's and his wedding, while the angel in question was attempting to open another bottle of wine with his teeth.

"And this is when we were all drunk and had knocked out the DJ," Crowley told the room in general, not being able to control the volume of his voice.

"Is that _Aziraphale_?" Famine asked incredulously, looking over his shoulder and hiccuping.

Crowley let out a sort of high-pitched giggle. "In the picture with the guy wearing a lampshade on his head and lacking pants? Yes. I think he was trying to do the maccarena. Or maybe that was the chicken dance."

Aziraphale wobbled clumsily over to everyone else, bottle still in hand. "What are you guys looking at?" he asked, slurring his words slightly.

"You," Pollution snickered.

Aziraphale saw what was clutched in Crowley's hands. "Why you little – !" he gasped, and made a lunge for the book. Unfortunately, his ability to judge direction and depth was completely gone, and he veered painfully into Death, who had just come back from a bloodthirsty tournament of whack-a-gopher (a rip off of whack-a-mole. He won, of course. No one beats Death). He fell sharply onto the floor. Death stared at everyone, who had abruptly burst into uncontrollable laughter, and decided he would come back later when everyone was sober.

oooOOooo

"Hey Aziraphale," Crowley poked him in the head. It was now very late in the evening (or very early in the morning, depending on how you looked at it), and they had managed to get rid of War, Famine, and Pollution. Crowley was lying, bored, on the bed and flipping channels on the tv they had in their hotel suite. "Wanna do something fun?"

"Like what?" Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, and turned from the suitcase he was going through. He knew enough about the demon to hazard a guess at what Crowley thought was 'fun'.

"Let's go swimming!" Crowley exclaimed, throwing an arm in the direction of the pool.

"Crowley, the pool's closed. It's almost three in the morning, dear, in case you haven't noticed. They'd kick us out."

"Ah, who cares? We'll just be really quiet," Crowley said smugly. "Come on! It's not like either of us need sleep."

"Not now, Crowley, really. We'll get in trouble."

"Then we can smite them until they're all piles of dust with eyeballs, and you can blame it all on me and not ruin your angelic reputation, which, I might add, is already sort of wrecked."

"Crowley, you will not get me within ten feet of that pool anytime tonight." Aziraphale frowned, cross. "And that's final."

oooOOooo

"I can't believe I just broke into a hotel swimming pool," Aziraphale said numbly.

"Aw, cheer up lad, and get in!" Crowley waved from in the pool. "It's wonderful!"

"Anything you describe as wonderful has to be horrid," Aziraphale replied tersely.

"Come on now, or I'll force you in."

"You wouldn — "

Crowley grinned, tugging on Aziraphale's leg and pulling him down into the water. Aziraphale fell in with a girlish yelp and floundered helplessly for a moment before realizing he wasn't drowning and could stand up there.

"I hate you," he muttered sourly.

"Oh, no you don't. You can't hate anything," Crowley beamed, patting Aziraphale on the head affectionately. "And you might want to keep down the yelling. Someone might come to investigate."

"This is no way to treat your new...uh, spouse, you know," Aziraphale pouted.

"Okay, we went over this. If we're putting names on us, I'm the husband and you're the wife. It's only normal," Crowley pointed out.

"I never agreed to being the wife!" Aziraphale scowled. "And if I did, you'd owe me something."

"Mmm? Like what?" Crowley murmured, running a hand back and forth across Aziraphale's shoulders. The angel shivered.

"I dunno. Nothing you're thinking of," Aziraphale smirked. "Something dreadfully embarrassing."

Crowley didn't bother with an answer, just took Aziraphale in his arms and planted a loving kiss on his lips. Aziraphale kissed back, then paused, looking suspicious.

"You're not thinking of having sex in the swimming pool, are you?" he asked.

Crowley put on his best innocent face, with wasn't really innocent at all.

"Ew, Crowley, no! That's horribly unhygienic." Aziraphale made a face. "I refuse."

"You refused to come to the pool in the first place, but here you are."

"I will not make love with you in a public swimming pool. What's wrong with a normal bed?"

"It's boring," Crowley muttered.

"Well excuse me for being old-fashioned! And not unbelievably unpleasant."

"Come on, it's a one time thing."

"No."

"I'll clean the whole bookshop for you when we get back home."

"Nope."

"I'll do that, plus pay for the next ten meals we go out for."

"...Keep going."

"What! You're so stingy. Okay. I'll clean the shop, pay for meals, and... I'll hide that book with our wedding pictures in it."

"Burn it."

"No, you fool. I love those pictures!"

"That's because you took all of them."

"No, I was in some. Anyway, we're getting off topic. Pleeeeease?"

"Never. Don't you dare splash — Eeeh!"

"Look. If you agree just this once, I'll let you..." Crowley swallowed, "redecorate the whole flat."

Aziraphale's eyes lit up. "Honest?"

Crowley cringed. "Yeah."

"Alright then, it's a deal!"

Crowley just hoped that their apartment would make it through the ordeal in one piece.

oooOOooo

For the next few days, whenever someone brought up the word 'pool', Crowley and Aziraphale would burst into very unmanly giggles.

_**Fin.**_

_**----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**_

**Yay for crack! Okay, not really. Drugs are bad, people. Yeah, I know the Horsemen got whupped by a bunch of little kids in the book, but it's not like they died, right? You can't kill War, Pollution, and Famine! Without them, how would the governments function?**


End file.
